


The Art of Shaving

by sleepingplanets



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Just to be safe, M/M, Shaving, Teacher-Student Relationship, combeferre is flippin hot, let's be real here, rating this mature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepingplanets/pseuds/sleepingplanets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac will never admit it out loud (he honestly doesn’t think he needs to) that he loved it whenever Combeferre asked him to help him shave. It felt extremely intimate and Courfeyrac knew that Combeferre didn’t trust just anybody to do it for him. Enjolras had tried one time but he didn’t do a good job with it.</p><p>Combeferre also doesn’t let Enjolras sit on his lap but that’s another story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Shaving

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by this Tumblr post:  
> http://justiceanders.tumblr.com/post/77119593481/think-about-combeferre-leaning-back-in-a-chair
> 
> I might've taken it a bit far but whatever.
> 
> Please leave comments and stuff and I hope you enjoy! :)

Combeferre’s eyes closed as he felt the hands against his jaw. Courfeyrac’s hands slid smoothly and were soft and gentle as they applied the shaving cream evenly over the hairs on Combeferre’s jaw. Other times, he would’ve preferred using the shaving brush but with Courfeyrac he wanted to feel the hands against his skin.

He was seated at the small dining table in their kitchen wearing a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt. The chair was pulled out with it’s back facing the table, giving Courfeyrac enough room to work. Their supplies were laid out on top of the table along with a bowl of water and some towels. A larger towel was draped over Combeferre’s lap.

Once Courfeyrac’s hand were away from his face, Combeferre opened his eyes and muttered, “Thanks again for this, Courf.” He watched the other man with a certain fondness in his expression.

Courfeyrac smiled softly in return. “It’s no problem really. That beard of yours was beginning to get out of hand.” He washed his hands at the sink, toweling them off afterwards.

Combeferre scoffed. “You love my beard.”

Courfeyrac returned and stood in front of Combeferre. He pursed his lips and chuckled at the white cream that was currently covering half of Combeferre’s face. “Wrong, dear. I like the scruff. The beard is a bit much.” He smirked, mirroring Combeferre’s expression. “Anyway, are you ready?”

“Whenever you are,” Combeferre responded, his voice dropping lower and Courfeyrac’s smirk only widened.

Slowly, he stepped in closer to Combeferre before carefully throwing a leg over and settling himself down on Combeferre’s lap. Reaching around, he grabbed the straight blade off the table and turned back to face Combeferre. The blade was part of a shaving kit that Combeferre received as a belated birthday gift from Enjolras but the only time when it was ever put to good use is when someone shaved his beard for him.

He flicked the blade open and rested a hand on Combeferre’s shoulder, steadying himself. “Ready?” he asked.

Combeferre’s eyes stared into his, all golden brown and intense. His hands settled lightly on Courfeyrac’s waist. “Just don’t slip.”

Courfeyrac gave him the slightest of smiles before beginning his work. He started on the left cheek, carefully working down as small bits of hair came off. “So how was your day?” he asked as he stopped to wipe off the blade.

Combeferre laughed shortly. “Same old, same old. Giving lectures, grading papers, wondering if my students actually learn anything from me.”

“Hmm,” Courfeyrac hummed as he got back to work. “You’re a wonderful teacher, Ferre.”

Combeferre made a quiet noise of disagreement but he didn’t talk until Courfeyrac was done with his left cheek. “Who knows?” He shrugged lightly. “Maybe people just say I’m good at what I do when I’m really not.”

Courfeyrac glared at him. “Stop talking like that or I swear I’m going to shave your eyebrows off.”

Combeferre didn’t answer back. Instead, he raised an eyebrow in a mocking way and Courfeyrac wanted to slap the shaving cream off of him. He settled for more glaring.

Smiling, Combeferre asked, “Well, then, how was your day?”

Courfeyrac's resolved melted as he started working on Combeferre’s right cheek. “Well, I had my own classes to go to and I thought about you a lot.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Courfeyrac wiped the blade again. “I couldn’t help but wonder…” he trailed off. His voice sounded quieter and rougher. There was an edge in there that Combeferre loved and he could feel the goosebumps rising on the back of his neck. “I couldn’t help but wonder if any of your other students find your beard attractive.” He finished off the right cheek.

Combeferre narrows his eyes at him. “You said you don’t like the beard.”

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t mean it still isn’t hot.” He got to work on Combeferre’s chin, the blade moving smoothly, taking the hair off along with it. “I know a few of the guys in your lectures love the beard.”

“The guys?”

“Yeah. They’re probably just jealous that they can’t grow a beard as manly as yours,” Courfeyrac murmurs, laughing lightly. “Although,” he says, his voice going back to its deeper tone. “That’s nothing in comparison to the way the girls look at you. With the beard, you can tell they’re a bit more put off but when you have that bit of scruff that I love, any one of them would be ready to climb you like a tree.” He used one finger to tilt Combeferre’s chin up. “I’m going to start on your neck now.”

Combeferre obliged. “You’ve seen the way the girls look at me?”

“Of course. I’ve snuck into your lectures plenty of times. When you have that scruff, they bat their eyelashes at you a bit more. They laugh a bit louder. They find any excuse to bend over in front of you. It’s quite funny actually.”

He pulled away to wipe the blade again and watched as Combeferre’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “And you’re not jealous of any of them?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Why should I be?” he purred. “I know I’ve got you all to myself.” Leaning in, he ran his nose lightly along the length of of the clean side of Combeferre’s neck, relishing in the shudder that he could feel going through the other man’s body. “And how many of them will ever get the chance to do what I’m doing now?” he whispered.

“Well, if all you say is true, then I’m guessing there’s plenty of people who would kill to be in your position.”

“I guess,” Courfeyrac said softly as he worked on finishing Combeferre’s neck. “And I would kill to defend my position.” He wiped away the extra shaving cream with a towel and placed a sweet kiss on Combeferre’s neck. Combeferre stopped breathing for a moment and Courfeyrac smiled wickedly as he felt the hands tighten on his waist.

He carefully maneuvered the blade around, shaving off any patches of hair he missed. Putting the blade down, Courfeyrac dipped a new towel in the water bowl and wiped Combeferre’s face gently with it. “Want me to do another layer of cream?” he asked.

“No, once is fine,” Combeferre replied and Courfeyrac watched as his shoulders slumped just slightly, as if Combeferre was just beginning to relax. “You can move on.”

Courfeyrac grinned at him as he got up. He took the towel off of Combeferre’s lap and rolled it up, making sure none of the hair fell out. Settling himself back on the latter’s lap, he reached around Combeferre for the aftershave balm. Courfeyrac will never admit it out loud (he honestly doesn’t think he needs to) that he loved it whenever Combeferre asked him to help him shave. It felt extremely intimate and Courfeyrac knew that Combeferre didn’t trust just anybody to do it for him. Enjolras had tried one time but he didn’t do a good job with it.

Combeferre also doesn’t let Enjolras sit on his lap but that’s another story.

Courfeyrac loved being this close to Combeferre and he loved how much trust Combeferre had in him. When it’s just them in Combeferre’s small kitchen, under the yellow lights above, there were no secrets. Just whispered words about the day and kisses that were pressed in between. Also, not to mention the fact that he loved the way Combeferre smells when he’s freshly shaven. He and the room always smelled of sandalwood afterwards; clean and earthy and warm and so deliciously _Combeferre_.

He poured the balm onto his palms and rubbed them together to warm it up. Tenderly, he began to rub it into Combeferre’s skin, reveling in the softness that met his fingers. “You’re so handsome,” Courfeyrac muttered, feeling almost absent minded.

Combeferre smiled softly at him but his eyes were dark, calculating, as if he were trying to think something over. “Tell me, do you ever get jealous because of my female students?”

“You would want to know that, wouldn’t you? Why?”

Courfeyrac’s thumb rested just below Combeferre’s bottom lip, the tip of his fingernail pushing down slightly. If Combeferre wanted, he could brush his tongue out against it but for now, he just looked at Courfeyrac from above his glasses. “Curiosity,” he said simply, his voice low and expecting.

Courfeyrac stared at home for a moment before his fingers started moving again. “Well, I can’t say I never have been. I remember the first time I’ve ever walked into your classroom. I can honestly say I’ve never been more thankful to Joly for letting me follow him around for a day.”

“And why weren’t you in your own class?”

“My lectures were in the morning that day so I was free and bored,” Courfeyrac said with a wave of his hand, dismissing any and all thoughts about morning lectures before diving back into his story. “I remember seeing you for the first time. You were the hottest nerd ever, I swear. I saw the way the girls looked at you. It’s like they’re stuck in the desert and you’re a tall glass of water.”

Combeferre laughed and Courfeyrac smiled as his hands fell from Combeferre’s face and grabbed onto Combeferre's own hands. “I’m flattered that you thought of that the moment you saw me.”

“Oh please, The moment I saw you, the first thing I thought was, ‘Wow, fuck me against a wall.’” He moved in closer, his face so close to Combeferre’s, he could feel the other man’s breath against his lips. “I didn’t think it would actually happen,” he whispered hotly.

Combeferre gulped, finding it suddenly difficult to breathe but at the same time, he wanted- _needed_ \- Courfeyrac closer. “You were so bruised after that night,” he recalls, his eyes searching Courfeyrac’s face.

“And I loved it,” Courfeyrac responded before promptly nipping at Combeferre’s ear. Combeferre groaned. “After that, I saw no reason to be jealous of anybody in your classes. Even if what we had amounted to nothing, I can still say you had me screaming for more.”

A brief silence passed between them before Combeferre lurched forward, claiming Courfeyrac’s lips. His arms wrapped around the shorter man’s waist, holding him in place.

Courfeyrac was taken aback, his arms scrambling for purchase before wrapping around Combeferre’s shoulders. Usually, Combeferre’s kisses were gentle and sweet and Courfeyrac could be content with going slow but right now, Combeferre was kissing him like he was drowning. It was messy, all tongues and teeth and lips meeting. One of Combeferre’s hands moved up Courfeyrac’s body. His fingers tangled themselves in Courfeyrac’s curls, tugging with just enough force to get Courfeyrac moaning quietly into Combeferre’s mouth.

When they pulled apart, they were both panting. Combeferre pressed Courfeyrac closer to him. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he muttered between breaths. “You were, and still are, a beautiful enigma, so energetic and full of life. There was no way I could say no to you.”

Courfeyrac scoffed but he smiled widely. “Speak for yourself. After you kissed me like that for the first time, I knew I’d do just about anything you asked me to.”

Combeferre seemed to ponder over that for a moment. He stared up at Courfeyrac, the other man’s eyes blown wide, a slight ring of green around the pupil. He slides the hand that was in Courfeyrac's hair down to his mouth, his thumb pressing down onto the plump bottom lip. Courfeyrac’s lips parted easily, the pad of Combeferre’s thumb meeting the warmth of his tongue. Courfeyrac bit down gently on the finger.

“Go to my room and wait for me,” Combeferre commanded, using his teacher voice while taking his thumb out of Courfeyrac’s mouth. He knew Courfeyrac loved it when he spoke like that.

Courfeyrac smirked as he got off of Combeferre’s lap. “Naked, sir?”

“Preferably.”

Courferyac’s eyes ran up and down Combeferre’s body. They stopped briefly on the bulge in Combeferre’s sweat pants and his smirk only widened.. “As you wish,” he purrs, walking off.

Combeferre followed soon after, shutting the lights in the kitchen off. They can clean up the mess in the morning. He thought of the man waiting for him in his room. Even though Courfeyrac wasn’t one of his students, the relationship they had was still considerably dangerous and it could cost Combeferre his job and career.

But he loved Courfeyrac so much that sometimes, he feels like everything is worth the risk.

When he walked into his room his room, he found Courfeyrac lounging back against the headboard, his back supported by a pile of pillows. He was naked and unashamed.

“Nice to know you’re good at following directions,” Combeferre says. He tugs his shirt off, throwing it to some corner of the room and walks toward the bed.

Courfeyrac laughed. “I have a very good teacher,” he replies and pulls Combeferre down on top of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at raksaisme :) Come say hi!


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